


We Should Have Known

by Aerine



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Spoilers, the dnd kids are mentioned, uh yeah this is fucking sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerine/pseuds/Aerine
Summary: "Oh, how you should have known."





	We Should Have Known

**Author's Note:**

> I still miss Billy damn it

In hindsight, it was a sentence that provided little comfort to your grief, wounds that would fail to heal for as long as you remained in Hawkins’ a reminder of everything you’ve lost. You hid from the world that managed to move forward, eyeing the changing of seasons as you were left behind under the blanket of Billy Hargrove’s leather jacket. How pathetic of you to assume you could have known, your eyes found the clouds above you as you apologized to a man who may or may not have been listening, arms wrapped around the trembling form of a dear sister experiencing loss far too young. You cradled her head, fingers pushing ginger strands from her face, wiping tears threatening to fall lest she found you as vulnerable as her. All you could do during these moments was pretend you were strong, pretend you were able enough to be the shoulder she could cry on if need be. How cathartic it was that she was his last known face, the sister he learned how to care for and love.

Your toes sink into the shining sands as you sprint along the beach, your sheer cardigan falling behind you as you catch a glimpse of your reflection off of seashells and dazzling rocks. With a squeak, you run with reckless abandon, attempting to widen the distance between you and your pursuer; however, your chest begins to burn in a gasp for air and your legs ache with your overexertion, causing your knees to buckle beneath you. As your hands break your fall, you shake your head, fishing into the pocket of your jean shorts to pull out your inhaler. That first intake of air is welcoming, enticing you towards repose after your exuberance. As the sun falls behind the waters, the sky hues of orange and pink, you witness as the clouds overhead float and mesh together to create shapes you think must be a sign. The waves brush against the crystals sticking to your wiggling toes, and it is then that you decide that there could be no greater sight to witness.

“Jesus, babe.” Your love trails his tongue across his lips once he finds you, faltering once he glances at the inhaler in your palm. “Fuck, baby– Baby, you can’t run like that.”

He drops down beside you to share your appreciation for the California sun, his elbow resting on his knee as he shrugs and flicks his lit cigarette into the ocean. His thumb then circles at your thigh, the warmth of his body edging closer to a form entranced with the beauty of it all. When he sneaks a glance at you, your hair is pushed back by the faint breeze, and your skin is painted with the glow of a looming twilight; the sight before him he can argue is the winner, the imperfections trail across your jaw and along your forehead, yet nothing beats you. Just you. You avert your gaze from the sun descending over the horizon, aligning with his own, and you search all over for answers before your giggle grants it for you in the form of a glint in his baby blues.

“Nothing, beautiful.” He grins, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. “Nothing at all.”

No one disclosed to you how they found his body, or how your beloved even passed; your mother wrapped you in an embrace upon the news without knowing anything. All Max could tell you was that he was thinking of you before he died, like that was meant to console you. After all the shit transpiring in Hawkins, somehow Billy had gotten caught up in it all, losing his life among some conspiracy the news proved more significant than him–all bullshit. The lives of many were left unaffected but you, you were stunted by the outcome and no one came close to understanding why he deserved to be missed. Why couldn’t society grant him one last act of mercy before he died, one act of kindness that otherwise was never granted to him by the ones he needed it from the most?

Why did it feel as if you and Max were the only ones grieving?

His name escaped past your lips, his fingers tapping at his wheel. You recalled of the many times where the teenager dreamed of home, lingered on the memories that made life worth living. “You and me, together. We can just fucking _run_.” Tempting the thought was, a life with Billy Hargrove was undoubtedly with its ups and downs, yet you chewed at your lip at the what ifs, at everything that could possibly go wrong. However, he witnessed the love you had for your hometown fleeting, the man jumping at the chance to live a life he was positive you would love. Summer was approaching, with residents of town running out of reasons to stay, which is why there was nothing he wanted more than to escape. Even though you delayed his decision to pack his bags and return to California, there was only so much a man could take of his past life catching up to him.

“Billy, I–“ You shook your head, frowning. “Billy, I don’t know.”

He mimicked your actions. “I’m done waiting. I gotta go, babe, and you gotta be there. ‘S not gonna feel right.”

“Aren’t you glad you said _yes_?” He raises an eyebrow, his arm thrown over your shoulder as he turns to you once again. Your knees are pressed against your chest as your brow furrows, images of what you left behind in Hawkins threatening to ruin your stay; people like Max and the weirdos that play Dungeons & Dragons, people that saw you in passing and pretended to heed your disappearance… what has become of them? Your family, did they even miss you, or were they shaking in disapproval as you professed your love for Hawkins’ bad boy by running away with him with nothing but a duffle bag and the ambition for tomorrow to be better? All of that vies to be enough for your hesitation, yet you find his gaze once again and you decide there is no turning back… there never was.

Your eyes downcast, they follow the movement of your fingertips as your pick at the sand crystals. “I love you, y’know.”

His hand grasps your chin, his lips pressing against yours. “Yeah, course I know. Love you too, dumbass.”

July 5th, you promised him, using the excuse that you couldn’t leave your family without celebrating America’s most celebrated day. That left you time to pack, time to contemplate your decision, time to meet your reflection in the mirror and tell her life was made for changes. That morning, you were meant to hop inside that blue Camaro of his, your gaze lingering on the window of your bedroom no longer yours before being dragged towards the man sitting in the driver’s seat smiling at you. Just you. The dew would only just recede from the center of his windshield, the sun filtering through tree branches before eventually shining down on your decision and the consequences no one was free of. Your heart would be racing, perhaps at a speed his car could not match, yet you would be happy. Hopeful. As would he.

Oh, how you should have known.


End file.
